Rule Number Four
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: A multi-chapter story set in Season Four from the collection of elflordsmistress. For Katesari.
1. Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

This was one of the first multi-chapter stories I ever wrote – back in March of 2008 - and I remember writing it because the whole _Junior Director_ vibe annoyed the hell out of me.

This would be a _Season Four_ storyline.

* * *

><p>"Are you familiar with the etymology of the word <em>autopsy<em>, Mr Palmer?" Ducky asked, as he weighed the liver of their most recent guest before returning it to the body.

"_Etymology_, Dr Mallard?"

"Yes. The etymology of a word refers to its origin. Much like us, an etymologist traces developments, analyzes component parts, identifies - "

"Whatcha got for me Ducky?"

The doors of the autopsy suite swished open and Leroy Jethro Gibbs walked in. Ducky signalled to Jimmy to carry on, and drew Gibbs' attention to the body.

"Look at his left hand, Jethro," he said as he held it up for Gibbs to inspect.

"Note the palmar surface. Particularly _here._" He indicated an abrasion at the bottom of the smallest finger. "I'll know more when I get results on the material lifted from the area back from Abby, of course, but such an injury, while slight, is not consis ... "

"Breaking a fall?" Gibbs speculated. Cutting him off in the process.

Ducky nodded gravely.

"I believe so, Jethro. On an asphalt road."

"In which case he didn't shoot himself while sitting in his car ..."

"No. I'll know more in a few hours."

"Thanks, Duck."

"Jethro, would you be so kind as to let the Dire ..."

But Gibbs was already gone.

A few minutes later he was sitting at his desk, about to bark out an order to the team, when he caught sight of McGee's expression.

"There a valid reason your mouth is hanging open, McGee?"

"Eh .. no boss."

"Does anybody else think they're getting bigger every time?" asked Tony from his station.

Ziva hazarded a quick look.

"They are _definitely_ getting bigger."

"Are you three done analysing the Director's orchids?" Gibbs asked without looking up.

"We are, boss," replied Tony.

"Then get back to work!" Gibbs thundered.

"On it, Boss," the agent said. Sneaking another glance at the impressive arrangement making its way up the stairs.

Nobody was expecting the explosion that came from the direction of Jenny Shepard's office a few minutes later.


	2. Decisions

People stumbled out of MTAC into angry smoke. In the bullpen others shook debris off themselves and looked around for their colleagues; their faces awash with relief that the upper level had borne the brunt of the blast. From their desks, Tony, McGee, and Ziva watched the scene unfold in what seemed to be slow motion, as Gibbs recovered sufficiently to climb the stairs two at a time.

He was halfway up when his cell phone rang. He listened intently, then spun on his heel and went back down; pausing by his desk only long enough to grab his coffee.

"I'll be in autopsy," he said with no emotion whatsoever in his voice.

"I'm fine, Jethro," Jenny said in response to the question that his eyes asked her a few minutes later. But she took the outheld coffee with a grateful smile.

Her eyes turned panicky milliseconds later.

"No, she wasn't," Gibbs anticipated - knowing that her thoughts had turned to Cynthia.

Jenny's stance relaxed minutely.

"Anybody hurt?"

"Scrapes and bruises. They'll live."

"How bad is it?"

"Your office is pretty much gone, Jen."

"Deliberate then," Ducky observed.

Gibbs inclined his head in assent.

"Looks that way."

Something flashed across Jen's features as he said that, but before he could identify it she'd turned to leave.

"I have to get up there," she said as he stepped into her path.

"What's going on, Jen?"

"What you mean what's going on?"

" When you piss someone off so badly that they try to blow you up in your own office, something's going on. Not to mention that you're doing that thing with your eye again."

Jenny laid both hands flat on the nearest gurney and took deep breath..

"It's need to know, Jethro" she said, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yeah? Well read me in. Because there's a gaping hole where you should have been, and any one of my people could have been with you at the time."

He was completely invading her space now.

"You got off lightly today. But whoever did this in the light of day on _your_ turf isn't going to stop until they've finished the job. And you know that."

He swept out of the morgue into the elevator.

Jen slipped into the car just as the door was closing, and stalled it when it had travelled part way upwards.

Gibbs looked intently at her. Clearly waiting for an explanation.

"It's complicated," she began.

"When is it not?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrows.

"I've been ... running a covert joint operation with one of our sister agencies," she said guardedly.

"Heh! You should have never left the field, Jenny. Oh wait ... you never _did _leave the field" he added sardonically. "You just moved it to your office."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Gibbs was on a roll.

"Which one?"

"The FBI," she conceded reluctantly.

"Fornell know about this?"

The silence that hung between them was answer enough, forcing Gibbs' eyebrows to practically enter his hairline.

"Anything I should know about you and Fornell?"

"No," she answered tartly.

"What have you been investigating?" he asked.

She stood there looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Jen?"

"SecNav."

"He's lying on Ducky's gurney, Jen. And it wasn't suicide."

"I know, Jethro. That's why I wasn't in my office. Ducky was filling me in."

Gibbs observed her in silence for a brief moment – and then he followed his gut. Hitting the button which would take them back down to the morgue.

"We need a body, Duck," he announced, as Jen trailed him back into the autopsy suite.

"A _body_, Jethro?" asked a bemused Dr Mallard, raising his eyes from stitching up the body.

"Someone we can pass off as the Director of NCIS."


	3. To Tell Or Not To Tell

Ducky observed the easy body language between them, and for a moment the intervening seven years evaporated, and he was looking at the two people he'd known back then. Both focused on the same problem and the best creative way to resolve it quickly and efficiently. Passing the coffee cup back and forth without so much as a glance in the other's direction, while continuing to mull over options.

Not so much anticipating the other as intuitively knowing what the other wanted.

"Bethesda has a body that matches the description, Jethro," he said, as he walked back to where they stood. "What are you going to tell the team?" hr added when Gibbs merely nodded.

He caught the glance that ran between Director and Special Agent.

A look that gave him the impression that they were testing each other.

"Rule number four," they said simultaneously as they looked one another in the eye.

Gibbs angled his head and raised his eyebrows with what could have passed for pride, and Jenny smiled and looked down. Both cognizant of the fact that the machine of complement was still in place and would serve them well.

"_Rule number four?_" an unexpected voice broke into the moment that the three were sharing.

Jimmy Palmer stood there with an inane grin on his face.

"_Rule number four_, Palmer," said Gibbs in a drawn out manner, "is the one that allows very senior field agents to dismember junior field agents and toss them piecemeal into the sewer. For being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Palmer gulped.

"B-but I work here," he blubbered.

"I wasn't talking about _you_, Palmer."

"There isn't anybody else here, Jethro" Ducky said.

"Ya think, Ducky?"

"Bring her in, Palmer," Gibbs said, nodding towards the supply closet.

"Mr Palmer?" Ducky fixed him with an inquisitive look. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Er ... it's ... er ..." Palmer said as he backed away from them towards the door Gibbs had indicated.

Gibbs looked at Ducky and smiled sardonically.

"No souvenirs in autopsy yet?"

Ducky's eyes widened.

"Come join the party, Agent Lee," Gibbs said without looking round.

"How did you ..."

Gibbs fixed her with a stare and she snapped her mouth shut.

"The question is ... what now?" asked Ducky, questioning Gibbs, but looking at the disgraced couple repeatedly.

"Lobotomise them," Gibbs said with a sneer as he turned to leave.

"Jethro ..." Jenny placated.

He stopped in his tracks and came to stand in front of her.

"What do you recommend we do ... _madam director_?" he asked sarkily.

"I say we read them in," she said with a barely suppressed smile. "Agent Lee is in the Legal Department. Who knows ... she may have her uses."

Jimmy's ears perked up almost literally.

"Is there something going on?" he asked.

"While you were busy doing the horizontal in the supply closet, someone tried to blow up the Director," Gibbs replied.

Jimmy's eyes widened.

"But you're here ..." he stated, confused.

"When will you have the body, Ducky?" asked Gibbs, ignoring him for the moment.

"The body is en route as we speak, Jethro."

"I want whoever did this to think they succeeded," Gibbs began. "And I want everyone else to as well. For the moment. Palmer. Lee. If any of this gets out I will personally see to it that you end up doing toilet duty somewhere unfriendly."

The hardness in his gaze wasn't enough to stop Palmer.

He slapped his hand on the gurney, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Can I be _Black Lung_ again?"

"Black Lung?" asked Gibbs.

Ducky groaned, covered his eyes, and looked away.

"Ducky?"

The medical examiner tried for tact.

"Danger, intrigue, and a damsel in distress. Compelling stuff. In your absence, Jethro, it seemed necessary to form a ... covert alliance within the network."

He looked apologetically at Jenny.

"Sorry, Director. Fortunately for us, Jethro, you returned, and saved the day."

"_Black Lung_?" asked Gibbs in disbelief. "Who came up with _that_?"

"Tony," answered Palmer.

Gibbs shook his head before looking pointedly at Michele Lee.

"Lee, you're on protection detail. I trust you're better with a gun then you are with a knife?"

She nodded.

"What are you going to do about the team, Jethro?" Jenny asked.

"What they don't know ..." he began. Fully expecting her to know what he meant. "Let me know when the body gets here, Duck?"

Ducky nodded.

"Jen ... home with Agent Lee. Palmer get them out of here in the van."

"Where are you going, Jethro?" Jen asked.

"To fabricate a bomb scare."

He exited autopsy, but re-entered it almost immediately - having been struck by a thought.

"Jen?"

"Jethro?"

"Anybody I should notify about your ... demise?"

The hesitation was fractional, but it made its impression nonetheless.

"Yes, Jethro. There is."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

When I was looking this over I realized just how much time has passed since I wrote this story – and how many things have changed on the show.

Two out of the four people in this chapter aren't even on it anymore!


	4. Suspicious

"Gibbs! Are you okay?"

Abby catapulted herself into his arms as soon as he walked into her lab.

"Yeah, Abby."

"Are you sure Gibbs? You looks so ... normal."

"Define normal, Abby."

She gesticulated wildly.

"Well ... it's the Director, and you were partners, and you two maybe ... and .. and I liked her. Even if she did send me Chip and make me wear a stupid suit to court. But anyway. Gibbs ... we gotta nail this bastard. We can't just ..."

She registered the impassive look and broke off.

"What's the matter with you, Gibbs? It's the Director!"

"Yeah, Abby. It is. So I suggest you get all over the evidence coming down from her office as soon as it gets here."

He turned away.

"But Gibbs ..." she whined.

He looked at her from the doorway.

"It's the _Director_. How can you treat this as if it were just some Jane Doe?"

"Memorial service is in a few days Abby. We don't have time to stop and grieve."

"But Gibbs ..."

"_What_, Abs?" he snapped with ill-concealed irritation.

"You're ..."

"I'm _what_, Abs?" he said as he walked back up to her and looked her in the eye.

Tears welled up in Abby Sciuto's eyes.

"I ... I liked her, Gibbs."

Gibbs let out a gentle breath.

"I know you did," he said as he pulled her towards him. "I know you did."

He kissed the top of her head and turned away.

"Er ... Boss?"

McGee stood in the doorway.

Gibbs turned to face him.

"Evacuation is complete."

Gibbs nodded.

"Lets go. Let the bomb squad do their thing."

"Who called it in, Boss?" McGee asked as he followed him out.

"Haven't a clue ..."

* * *

><p><strong>A few hours later …<strong>

Gibbs and Cynthia hovered over the latter's computer, conversing softly.

Tony, Ziva, and McGee passed them on the way into the Director's office,

As the other two set about bagging and tagging, Tony peeked at them again from the doorway before leaning against the door frame.

"Anybody else think there's something wrong with this picture?" he asked.

"What do you mean, Tony?" McGee asked.

"Gibbs. Too calm. Shouldn't he be a little bit ... _agitated_? I mean, he was climbing the walls when K- "

He caught sight of Ziva's upturned face and shifted tracks.

"They were _partners_ for God's sake."

"Maybe your theory's wrong, Tony," said McGee.

"And which theory would that be ... _probie_?"

"Erm .. the one that has the Director and Gibbs as more than just partners back in the day," he replied; doing a pretty good impersonation of Tony.

DiNozzo walked up to McGee and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ever hear of UST, probie?"

"Yes, Tony. Yes I have. Unresolved sexual tension."

"You ever see the Director and Gibbs up close and personal?"

McGee looked confused for a second.

"A seasoned investigator," Tony began, walking round him, "reads body language, McGee. Believe me when I say ... Gibbs and the Director have experience. Of the carnal kind. You ever see the way they invade each other's personal space and tolerate it?"

He inclined his head – remembering something.

"Well ... for the most part. You ever hear them finish each other's sentences? You ever seen the Director look down with a smile after Gibbs has said something to her. Have you ever ..."

He took a step towards the door and peeked out again to make sure that Gibbs was still occupied.

"... seen them share a coffee? Lemme tell ya ... it takes a lot to enjoy Gibbs' taste in coffee."

He shuddered.

"Well, they were partners, Tony. And ... "

Tony rolled his hands dramatically– indicating that he should continue.

"Go for it probie. Connect the dots. Stakeouts ... coffee ... Jenny and Gibbs stuck in some apartment for days on end, with nothing to amuse themselves but each other. Jenny in some tight little number."

"Tony ... you are drooling," said Ziva.

"Hey ... she's a beautiful woman now. Can you imagine her seven years ago? Gibbs would've had to be made of stone not to ..."

"Tony!" Ziva snapped.

"So you see, _probie,_" Tony forced himself to stop seeing the Director's curves, "the boss and the ... other boss ... had something goin' on. And consequently _this _..." he hitched his thumb at the outer room, "is wrong."

McGee considered for a moment.

"He's focused on finding who did this, Tony."

"Think he's still in love with her?" DiNozzo asked.

And wished he hadn't, once he saw the way McGee stiffened.

"Oh hey boss ..." he said, cringeing.

"You done in here?" Gibbs asked acerbically.

"Almost," lied Ziva.

"McGee – when you've got what you need, take it down to Abby and help her. Tony, I want you on the trail of those orchids. I want to know where they came from, who potted them, who breathed on them. Ziva ... you're with me."

"Where're you going Boss?" asked Tony.

"To have a chat with the Director's boyfriend."


	5. Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

Just wanted to let you know about an acronym coming up in this chapter.

**GAO** – Government Accountability Office.

* * *

><p>Ziva followed Gibbs into the elevator and hit the kill switch.<p>

"You know, Gibbs," she said tersely, "she was my partner too."

"Your point, Officer David?"

"This business as usual, macho stuff helps no-one. I mean-"

"I know what you mean," he replied no less tersely.

"Look, I know that you and -"

"You know _WHAT_, Ziva?"

He cut her short – his tone making it clear that she was trespassing on dangerous territory.

"I know how hard it is to lose someone you've..." she searched for a non-contentious description "trusted with your life."

"Job hazard," Gibbs replied, his finger back on the button.

"When you -"

He looked pointedly at her.

"Are you going somewhere with this, Officer David?"

She had just opened her mouth to answer when his cell phone rang.

"Got it," said Gibbs into the phone. "On my way."

"Who was that?" Ziva asked when he hung up.

"My dry cleaner," he replied, looking her straight in the eye and daring her to continue.

Ziva bristled but fell silent as the elevator started to move again.

"Where are we going, Gibbs?" she asked in confusion as they stopped at bullpen level.

"To have a chat with the Director's boyfriend," Gibbs said as the doors slid open.

"Jen doesn't, _didn't_, have a boyfriend," Ziva huffed, as she brusquely sidestepped a man who was pacing outside the elevator.

She'd walked a few paces before she realized that Gibbs wasn't behind her.

She walked back towards the men slowly, pretty sure they were sizing each other up.

Gibbs spoke first.

"Officer David, meet Congressman Bob Sommers."

"Congressman ..." she said by way of greeting.

"Are you Ziva?" the man answered, breaking eye contact with Gibbs – who hadn't managed to stare him down.

"Yes," she replied simply, taking his outstretched hand.

"Jen spoke often of you," he said gently, the inflection in his voice hard to read.

He looked back at Gibbs.

"What's going on, Agent Gibbs?" he asked.

"Who's the suit?" Di Nozzo whispered to Ziva as he came down from the upper level. "Is that the ..."

Ziva gave a small, sharp nod.

"Expensive taste," he observed, making a mental estimate of the congressman's attire.

"Agent Di Nozzo," Gibbs called out suddenly, almost making him jump out of his skib. "Escort Congressman Sommers down to interrogation please."

"On it, boss," Tony replied, almost warily.

The door to the observation room opened a few minutes later and McGee and Abby slipped in.

"You two done already?" asked Tony in surprise.

"No, we … er ..." McGee mumbled.

"We wanted to see the Director's boyfriend for ourselves" Abby fessed up.

"Does anybody else think Gibbs is ..." McGee started.

"This could get ugly, probie," Tony said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder.

"It could indeed."

The door opened again and Ducky walked in.

"Hi Ducky," said Abby with a smile, knowing his reasons for being there were exactly the same as hers and McGee's.

"Have you come to check out the Director's taste in men, Ducky?" asked Ziva.

Ducky looked at the Congressman for a while.

"She always did have expensive taste," he observed in what might have been amusement. "But tell me ... is our congressman a suspect?"

"We were on our way to _have a chat _with him, but he arrived before we left the building," Ziva said.

"Whining about not being able to get information," Tony added.

"I'll bet that went down well with Jethro," Ducky said with a small smile as he headed back for the door. "See you all later. I have to get back to autopsy."

As the door closed gently behind him the others turned back to the window, waiting for Gibbs to start.

"Oh Gibbs is pissed," Abby said.

"How can you tell?" McGee asked. "He looks like he always does when he's interrogating a suspect."

"But this guy isn't a suspect" she replied as she looked at Tony and Ziva. "Is he?"

"I think Gibbs' gut is telling him something," Tony said.

"Either that or he's not very happy the Director had a boyfriend," Ziva supplied.

"Or ..."

"Ssshhhhhhh ..." Abby interverned.

"Agent Gibbs," the congressman appealed in the other room, "_please_. If you can't give me details, at least let me know that Jen's alright."

The team could have sworn they sensed Gibbs rankle at the man's use of _Jen _as he tried to stare him down again.

"Look, I don't have time to play territorial games with you, Agent Gibbs. So if this means I have to go over your head to get the information I need, then so be it."

He made a great show of pulling out his cell phone and punching in a few numbers in distaste. Never breaking eye contact.

A few seconds later he blanched, and put his phone down shakily.

He looked up at Gibbs again, a glazed look in his eyes, while Gibbs sat back in his chair and regarded him with interest.

"Tell me about you and Director Shepard," he began, deliberately avoiding the use of her first name.

Sommers stood and started to walk around; visibly trying to get his emotions under control.

"Can I have a moment here, Agent Gibbs?"

He looked over at Gibbs, who was still staring at him.

"Nope," the latter replied, shuffling papers around.

"I just ca - " the congresman ran his hand over his face.

"Today, _Bob_" Gibbs pushed.

"Am I a suspect here, Agent Gibbs?" Sommers asked, with a hint of acid creeping into his voice.

"I don't know yet," replied Gibbs, looking up at him for a second. "It'll depend whether the bomb that took out the director's office was in your love tokens."

The congressman looked confused.

"The orchids."

"I had nothing to do with the orchids," the Congressman protested.

Gibbs fixed him with a look.

"Well I do. Did. I mean I send them to her once a week. Sent them. I ... I have a standing order with florist in North Carolina. I never see them personally."

"They sign your cards for you?" Gibbs asked as he took notes.

"Yes, yes. Can I see her, Agent Gibbs?"

Without a word, Gibbs brought the autopsy suite up on the screen to his left.

Doctor Mallard could be seen hovering over a gurney with Jimmy Palmer, performing an autopsy.

The Congressman took one look at the screen and dry heaved.

"So .. you and the director .."

"You bastard!" Sommers spat.

"That's what they tell me," said Gibbs with the briefest trace of a smile, before gesticulating to indicate that he was still waiting.

"Jen and I met when she was appointed Director of NCIS a year and a half ago," Bob Sommers replied. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief as he spoke.

"Where?" Gibbs asked.

"G.A.O headquarters."

"That your playground?"

"Yes."

"The investigative arm of Congress," Gibbs mused out loud, his mind already forming a picture he didn't like. "So you met over a year ago. What then?"

"We'd have coffee and ..."

"Network?" Gibbs said sarcastically.

"In a manner of speaking," the congressman said diplomatically.

"How soon before things got personal between you?"

"About two months."

"Mmhmmm," Gibbs grunted, still taking notes. "Then what?"

"I'm not trying to be difficult – but what exactly is it that you want to know Agent Gibbs? I came here of my own free will. Okay look ..." he continued, realizing that Gibbs wasn't going to let up, "once a week her driver would drop her off at my office one of her morning meetings and we'd grab coffee close by."

"That the only thing you were grabbing?"

"_Excuse me_?"

Gibbs looked him straight in the eye.

"Was that the only thing you were grabbing?" he repeated, enunciating each word clearly.

Bob Sommers got to his feet and came round the table.

"If you're in any way intimating that I had anything to do with Jen's death, I suggest you rethink your strategy Agent Gibbs. And the next time you try to provoke me by demeaning her, or me, I suggest you remember that I run the GAO. Your record is far from stellar. And Jen isn't here to protect your ass."

"That a threat, Congressman Sommers?"

The man looked him straight in the eye.

"I don't make idle threats, Agent Gibbs. You find whoever did this!"

By now he was standing by the door – his rant over.

"Now if you're not going to charge me with anything, I have an agency of my own to run."

Tony came into the room, alerted by Gibbs through the glass.

"Escort Congressman Sommers out, Di Nozzo" he said.

The congressman turned to look at Gibbs one last time.

"No matter what you may think, Agent Gibbs, I loved Jen. I was waiting for an answer about whether she would marry me."

Tony closed the door before Gibbs could raise his eyes from the paperwork.


	6. Protection Detail

**Michele Lee's apartment.**

**Several hours later.**

"I'll take over for a few hours."

They took the hint and scarpered with indiscriminate haste, and Gibbs heard a door being a slammed down the hall a few seconds later.

"You okay?" he asked, as he Jen watched fuss with something in Michele Lee's kitchen.

She rolled her eyes. "I can't spend the night here, Jethro."

"Why not?"

Jen chose her words carefully before saying, "I've had to take long potty breaks at least four times since Palmer got here."

"Didn't know Palmer had it in him,"Gibbs said with what might have been a grin.

"Jethro .. she's insatiable," she hissed through her teeth.

"Remind you of anyone?"

"We were never this -"

"Yeah we were, Jen. Remember that time in ..."

She was extending her hand to cover his mouth and stop him from talking when his cell phone rang.

"Gibbs ..."

He spoke curtly into the phone, listening intently to what the person at the other end had to say, and Jen took the opportunity to move into the living room.

"Trouble?" she asked when he joined her on the floor, their backs against the sofa.

"Zeee-vah," he said.

"Checking in?"

"Yup."

"Do you know why I got the job as Director of NCIS, Jethro?" she asked after a short bout of silence.

"Because you were a damn good agent, you're ambitious and driven, you look good in a suit ..."

She smiled at him fondly for a moment, and then became serious again.

"Director Morrow was offered the position at Homeland Security for a reason."

"He's implicated?" Gibbs asked, his tone belieing his surprise.

"He's been under investigation for a while. Are you familiar with the _No Fear Act_?"

Gibbs nodded.

"A marine by the name of Lance Corporal Sven Myerson, serving on the _USS Jacinto_, brought sensitive information to NCIS."

"Brought it to Morrow?" asked Gibbs.

Jen nodded.

"The _Whistleblower Protection Law_ was created to ensure that no head of a Federal Agency take retaliatory action against personnel who disclose information that evidences .. well in this case, a specific danger to public health and safety."

"Did Morrow?"

"Morrow claimed that it was because the information needed to be kept secret in the interest of national defence. Myerson was threatening to go to the media with what he had."

"What was it?" Gibbs asked.

"Information pertaining to contracts tendered for the updating of the sonar suite."

"That kind of outfitting falls directly under ..."

"The Secretary of the Navy" Jen finished for him. "It's ugly, Jethro."

"Where's Myerson now?" he asked.

"His body washed up on a beach in Norfolk almost two years ago."

"Were you investigating this?"

"Yes."

"Did Morrow know?"

She shook her head.

"He thought he was being investigated by the FBI. SecNav brought me in to balance things out."

"Until you found out that he was implicated too ..." Gibbs mused.

"He was set up, Jethro. By someone with a lot of influence. He appointed me Director of NCIS knowing full well what I would find. The day he appointed me he told me so."

"Where does Sommers fit in?" asked Gibbs.

Jenny sighed and exhaled deeply.

"SecNav was convinced that Bob Sommers is behind most of this. Old grudge, unfinished business. I don't know. But Fornell and I haven't been able to find a thing on him. He's pleasant, he's personable, he's meticulous, his people respect him. I've got nothing on him."

"He's dirty, Jen."

"Your gut tell you that, Jethro?"

He nodded.

She was about to answer when they heard a keen moan drift down the hall.

"Here we go." she sighed, shaking her head and covering her eyes. "I don't suppose you brought any bourbon?" she asked hopefully.

Gibbs smiled and produced some out of a paper bag he'd placed on the coffee table.

He took a slug and handed it over.

"Forgotten how to drink out of a bottle now that you're a _Director_?" he teased as she stared at the bottle.

Jen chuckled before taking a long swallow, and they sat in companionable silence; listening in amusement to the sounds from the bedroom that ranged from muffled giggles to punctuated gasps.

"Di Nozzo would have a field day," she said as she passed the bottle back after a while.

He thought she was looking a little flushed and wondered if the sounds of intimacy were getting to her as well.

"I feel like a voyeur," she whispered, as they sat there listening."Even though we can't see anything."

"Doesn't leave much to the imagination," he said with a smirk as the sound of something heavy hitting the ground and breaking echoed through the apartment.

Jenny muffled a laugh in her sweatshirt.

"Remember the time Ducky was sleeping in the next room in London?" she asked suddenly.

Gibbs was assaulted by visuals; the sounds coming from the room down the corridor enhancing the memory recall, and making it impossible not to have a bodily reaction.

"Yeah ..." he murmured, taking another swig of bourbon.

"You never used to waste bourbon back in those days," Jenny said, swiping at a wayward drop on his lower lip with her fingertips.

Her own mind flashing back to that night and the way Jethro had sucked the drops right back off her fingers in a way that had made her want to eat him alive.

"Still don't," he answered, pulling her fingers into his mouth before she had even registered that she had touched him.

Holding them there by suction.

In the background, Agent Lee and Jimmy Palmer seemed destined for imminent climax as Gibbs bit down gently on her fingernails and kept watching her.

Jen squirmed, and he released her fingers and smiled at her.

"Still like that?" he asked knowingly.

"You remember," she said, a tad breathlessly.

"I remember a lot of things, Jen."

They looked at each other for a long intense moment, and then she took the outstretched bottle from him with a smile, and averted her eyes shyly.

A scream from the bedroom indicated that coitus was over.

"Maybe they'll go to sleep now," she said with a smile as Gibbs got to his feet.

He looked at her looking at him; pretty sure he knew what she was looking at.

"Go get some sleep, Jen. I'll be out here if you need me."


	7. Tobias

**Author's Note:**

I got a very nice email from _CK_ after I put out the announcement (which I have now removed) – and inside that email was the rest of Rule Number Four! So … we're back on track. It means more than I can say to have someone who is a stranger step up and help out. Thank you! _MatteAM_, you're off the hook:)

* * *

><p><strong>Fornell's house<strong>

"Stay here ..."

Gibbs waited for Jen to turn down the offer, and was surprised when she didn't.

"Thank you, Tobias," she said, picking his cup off the table as she moved towards the coffee machine for a refill.

Gibbs was tempted to hold out his own cup as she walked by, but was too distracted by her fluidity in Fornell's kitchen. Moments later the door to the kitchen cracked open - and a little head popped round the door.

"Aunt Jen!"

Fornell's daughter launched herself at Jenny.

"Hey there little miss ..." Jenny said, as she welcomed the affection.

Gibbs watched Emily melt into her embrace, and wondered whether motherhood had softened Diane at all. As he caught Jenny's eye for a second he also wondered whether she had any regrets about not having children of her own. And the sight of the two of them together spiked a flood of memories that made his breath catch just a little.

"I've missed you, aunt Jen!" the little girl gushed excitedly, as she hugged the older woman's waist.

But Jenny's eyes were on Gibbs, because she knew exactly what he saw in the picture before him. Or rather, who he saw. And her heart ached for him.

The sound of his cell phone ringing made everyone stop what they were doing and look at him.

"Bob Sommers' driver just turned up at NCIS," he announced. Standing to leave as soon as he was done.

"In a body bag?" asked Fornell.

"No. Di Nozzo's got him in interrogation."

Fornell looked expectantly at Jenny.

"I'll stay," she said, smiling fondly at the child.

"Emily?"

"I'd like that, daddy," the little girl said, slipping her hand into Jen's.

Fornell nodded and strode out of the kitchen.

"Jen?"

"I'll be fine, Jethro."

"You always this silent in the car?" Fornell asked as they drove back to headquarters, "or are you pissed about something?"

"Why didn't you come to me, Tobias?" Gibbs said after a while.

"You were busy with Ari," Fornell replied with a shrug. "Plus she was my liason _before_ she was officially appointed Director."

"You shoulda come to me."

"Need to know, Jethro. SecNac was very clear on that one. And she's ... "

"Good at keeping secrets. I know."

"She's damn good, Jethro."

"Think someone found out just _how_ good?"

"I don't know. She had them all eating out of her hand, that's for sure," Fornell recounted. "Housekeeper, gardener, secretary. You name it."

"The driver?"

"Him too," Fornell nodded. "What'd you get back from the labs?"

"Still waiting," Gibbs replied, his eyes on the road.

"How's she holding up?"

"Why're you asking me? She's _your_ partner," Gibbs replied with a hint of acerbity in his tone which Fornelll chose to ignore.

"You ever see her lose it?"

Gibbs look at him and raised his eyebrows; choosing to think of scenarios he didn't think Fornell was referring to.

"Once or twice. You?"

"Never. And lemme tell you, she's been in some sticky situations with this investigation. She's damn good, Jethro. Damn good."

The admiration in Fornell's voice was something Gibbs couldn't miss – and it took him by surprise.

He decided he didn't want to know what Fornell meant. It had been a while since they had been partners. They'd both had other partners since they parted ways. Maybe it was because it was Fornell. He considered Fornell _his_ contact, and hadn't been ready to discover that he had a working relationship with Jen. Or that there was a degree of familiarity between them that ran to Fornell's child.

He'd watched them in that kitchen.

Listened to them mull over options and finish each other's sentences, as they discussed details he hadn't been privy to till that moment. Had been reminded of the days when he and Jen had worked together in perfect synch.

For a brief second he relived the feeling of being a spectator.

Left out. Betrayed, almost. By both of them. Until he realised that in spite of the strings she pulled on occasion, he really had stopped seeing the agent in her.

On any other day the thought might have amused him.

Not today.

He stepped on the accelerator to dull his frustration.


	8. Two Women

**Author's note:**

Since there was such a long delay between updates, here is another one for today.

* * *

><p><strong>Navy Yard, Washington DC<strong>

"A messenger," Gibbs said as Di Nozzo related how things had gone with Bob Sommers' driver.

"The Congressman feels that whoever did this to the Director was trying to get to him," Ziva began.

"Taking out people he cares about," added Tony. "And now he wants protection. From us."

"Before they get to him ..." Fornell said.

"Boss ..." McGee interrupted, looking up from his computer.

"What is it, McGee?"

"I've been running checks on the Director's home line," he said as he brought a list up on the plasma. "Over the past ten days the same number over and over, boss. Late evening. All lasting less than 4 seconds."

"Hang ups?" asked Gibbs.

"Looks like it. I'm running a trace on the number" he said as he typed furiously. "It seems to be a phone box on ..."

"Her street," Gibbs recognized the address as soon as it came up on the screen.

"Someone has been keeping tabs on the Director," said Ziva.

"Ya think, Zee-vah?" said Gibbs. "McGee .. can you find out the last time the phone box was used?"

"I can," McGee said as he punched in commands. "Last call was made two nights ago. To ..." He looked up. "Director Shepard."

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva - who were already getting ready to move out.

"On it, boss. We'll check it out and dust for prints."

"Check out her house too while you're out there. See if anything looks out of place. And Di Nozzo ..."

"Yeah boss?" Tony called from the elevator.

"Leave the bedroom drawers to Ziva."

The elevator doors slid shut on Tony's crestfallen look, and Gibbs shook his head and turned his attention back to McGee.

"Any _incoming_ calls to that phonebox, McGee?"

"Checking that now," the agent replied as he looked back at his terminal.

Fornell's cell phone rang.

His eyes cut to Gibbs for a second, as he answered; conveying something that Gibbs couldn't quite read.

He inclined his head in query.

"Diane's at the house" came the reply.

A short while later the two men hovered outside the Fornell residence.

Each one waiting for the other to make the first move.

"It's your house," Gibbs pointed out.

"She's your boss."

"She's your wife."

"Ex-wife, and you share the privilege. So that's two out of two for you," Fornell said as he handed him the key to the front door. "This isn't good, Jethro," he added, as they walked into eerie silence.

The women sat in the kitchen, staring at each other.

Neither one speaking.

Each one nursing a coffee.

Emily sat nearby, eyeing both warily, and her face lit up as soon as Fornell entered the room.

"It took you long enough," Diane spat at him.

Her eyes roamed over Gibbs, and barely suppressed disdain flashed in them for a split second before she dismissed him completely.

"Emily, leave the room," she said to her daughter.

The little one bowed her head and dragged her feet, looking back at the adults from the doorway until Fornell nodded at her to leave.

"What is this?" Diane demanded. "Why is _she_ at your house with my daughter when she's _supposed_ to be dead? It was all over the news last night."

"Diane ..." Jen began, when she realised that neither of the men were going to say anything.

"Don't you _Diane_ me" the other woman stormed, turning on her. "_You_, of all people, have no right to .."

"Don't go there, Diane," said Gibbs.

She turned to look at him with contempt in her eyes.

"Don't presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, Jethro. I want to know why my daughter is in the care of a dead woman."

"Need to know, Diane."

"Need to know?_ NEED TO KNOW_?" she said, her voice rising a notch. "I spent my married life to both of you hearing '_need to know_'. I am _done_ with 'need to know'. So ... either you tell me what's going on," she said, as she grabbed her bag and coat and made to leave, "or I am going to the media."

"That a threat, Diane?" Gibbs called after her.

"A promise, Jethro," she said, looking him straight in the eye.

"Diane ..." Fornell said placatingly, following her out of the room.

Jenny and Gibbs looked at each other across the kitchen table as voices rose out in the hallway.

"_What do you mean we can't leave?_" Diane was heard protesting.

"It means I'm putting you and Emily into protective custody until this is over."

"You have no right ..."

"I have every right, Diane."

"I'm not staying with that ..._ that_ .. "

Jen appeared suddenly from the kitchen, with Gibbs lagging behind her.

"Would you give us a moment, please?" Jenny asked the men stiffly, her hackles well and truly raised.

Gibbs looked at her inquiringly, and then retreated to the kitchen with Fornell in tow.

"Think it's gonna get ugly?" he asked Gibbs, as he hovered near the door – shamelessly trying to overhear.

"I'm sorry to have placed you in this situation .." Jen began.

"You. Sorry." Diane retaliated. "People like _you_ are never sorry."

"People like me?" Jen asked incredulously.

"You're a piece of work, you know that? Your feminine wiles may work on those two dirtbags in there, but they're wasted on me. You may have hoodwinked some people into thinking you got to the top so fast because you're some kind of superwoman, but word is you used your assets and screwed you way to the top," Diane sneered, clearly on a roll.

In the kitchen Fornell rested his hand on Gibbs' arm and shook his head.

For her part, Jen stood back and let Diane vent.

If it had been anyone else she might have slapped her, but she suspected this little tirade was fuelled by a long-harboured grudge.

Woman to woman. Over Gibbs. Even if things had been over between them before Marseille, Jen had still been Diane's replacement. But because she cared deeply for Emily - who was no doubt listening as avidly as Gibbs and her father behind some door in the house - she chose to let Diane have her moment, and waited patiently as the woman ranted and raved.

"And what did it get you?" the other woman continued, determined to get a rise out of her. "You've got to be pushing 43 and look at you – what have you accomplished for yourself? Even those two scumbags in there have something. They're both married to their job. And here you are. The female head of a federal agency – and somebody wanted you gone enough to blow you up in your office!"

"What I've got may be nothing by your standards, Diane, but you're one of the luckiest people I know," Jen said in an attempt to deflect attention from herself. "You've got Emily. Let Tobias make sure it stays that way."

She left Diane standing there as she walked back into the kitchen – and bumped straight into Gibbs. He looked at her and for a second saw the tinge of regret he thought he'd picked up on when she'd mentioned Emily to Diane.

And then it was gone.

"What now?" she asked him, as Fornell went back out to Diane.

"You're coming home with me," he said with a finality that brooked no resistance.


	9. Unexpected

**Author's note:**

I'm going away for a few days, so I uploaded three chapters today.

One for each of the days that I will be away.

Back with the next part on Sunday night.

Happy Easter/Passover to all.

* * *

><p><strong>Gibbs' house, slightly later<strong>

She walked around the boat in the basement; sipping bourbon, and allowing her fingers to trace the letters of its name.

"Are you going to sell it?" she asked, as she watched him work.

"Haven't decided yet."

"Does she know about it?"

Gibbs shrugged; a clear sign that the topic was unwelcome.

"You build boats when people are gone, don't you Jethro?" she asked as the thought came to her. "A tenuous link in some cases, not so tenuous in others. "

She looked at him and smiled.

"What?" he asked when she didn't drop her gaze.

"Did you ever build a boat for _me_, Jethro?"

He looked straight into her eyes for a long moment, and then went back to work with a smile playing on his wordless lips.

"Maybe you should send it to her," she carried on, as she walked round the boat, trailing her fingers along the side. "Sail it down there or something."

"Mhmmm," Gibbs mumbled dismissively as he bent over the other side, varnishing the wood with patient care.

"You missed a spot here," she pointed out over his shoulder as she came to stand behind him.

Gibbs handed her the rag he was using.

"I'm sure she could use it in Hawaii."

"You done?" he said as took the rag back from her and leaned up inspect her handiwork.

He froze as he felt her chin come to rest on his shoulder.

"Your eyesight's worse than you think, Jethro. You missed another spot _here_" she said, her fingers sliding down his forearm and closing over his right hand.

Guiding it to the spot in question.

He turned his head slowly, and felt a small rush as her lips brushed lightly against his jaw. Jenny blinked several times and Gibbs froze again. He had never thought of butterfly kisses as sexual, but the feel of her eyelashes making contact with his cheek made his body ripple.

"Jen ..." he said as her lips travelled along his face to his ear.

"This isn't a good idea. I know."

Gibbs endured the sound of her moistening her lips with difficulty, and shivered when her tongue touched his lobe.

"Stop," he said, swivelling round to face her.

He was expecting her to look smug.

Not vulnerable.

"Jen?"

She looked round, trying to look anywhere but at him. Because she was sure her eyes would betray her need. Months of living a lie with the man she was investigating had had its share of physical intimacy – but none of it had meant anything to her. It had been a necessary part of the undercover op. She'd separated the physical from the emotional, and she'd been fine with it. Had even enjoyed it for its own sake sometimes. But the past evening with Jethro had reminded her that she was still a woman with very real needs.

And those needs had surfaced.

She craved intimacy - and she craved it with him.

Something she couldn't afford. Something neither one of them could afford, really.

All night she'd been haunted by the look in his eyes as he'd sucked the bourbon off her fingers. He'd wanted her. As he'd wanted her in Marseille. In Positano. In Serbia. In Paris.

"Jen?"

She heard concern in his voice, and registered a feather-light touch on the sleeve of her sweater all the way up her arm to her shoulder.

The burden of things unspoken weighed down on her, but she was unable to suppress the sound of pleasure that escaped her as his fingers touched her neck. His eyes cut to hers; her little moan an unbelievable turn on. He maneuvered her easily against the boat, not quite sure what he wanted as she raised her face to his.

"This really isn't a good idea, Jethro" she said as his thumb pad grazed her lower lip.

"Yeah," he replied as she nestled her cheek into his palm.

Their lips hovered so close together he could feel the reverberation of her shallow breathing. The look of longing in her eyes took his breath away, and flooded his mind with memories of days gone by when she'd looked at him like that. And what had usually followed as a consequence.

The awkwardness was palpable. He felt like a teenager afraid to claim his first kiss, and was pretty sure she felt the same.

He heard a subdued giggle from her as they made the first move together and bumped noses. His fingers wound into her hair as he drew her towards him and nipped tentatively at her lips, and then stood stock still as she returned the gesture. Resisting the urge to fully press his advantage. Both of them skirting the territory of rediscovery. Wanting it, yet knowing innately that they would be courting disaster. He watched her through half open eyes and recognized the need in her. The need for contact and intimacy.

"God, Jen," he whispered hoarsely at her as she nibbled at his jawline.

His fingers burnt a path from her lip to her neck. Over her throat and across her breasts as her head fell back against the boat. She pulled him against her by the loops on his jeans, and her hips bucked upwards against him.

His mouth was closing possessively over hers when his cell phone rang, and for a millisecond he considered ignoring it.

"This better be good, Abs," he said irately when he decided to answer. His hands slipping off Jenny as he listened to what he was being told very intently.

When he snapped the phone shut and addressed her again, his tone was acerbic.

"Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"Tell you what, Jethro?"

"That you blew up your own office."


	10. Complicated

Jenny didn't flinch under his furious gaze.

To her credit she didn't as much as bat an eyelid.

However, she knew better than to carry on with the charade – even if she knew instinctively that he didn't have all the details. That he was just following his gut.

"How much has she figured out?" she asked.

"She's figured out a dead man's switch was used."

"That's all she should be able to discover. Jethro. I was careful."

"Fornell?" he asked as he shook his head in disbelief at the entire situation. Disgusted that it should have come to this and yet not surprised.

"No. I was working alone."

"Ya don't say ..." he muttered sarcastically.

"I have a job to do, Jethro."

"You always do," he retorted nastily.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well what it means," he snapped back.

"If you're referring to what happened in Paris ..."

"You planning on giving me an explanation anytime soon?" he pushed, practically in her face." You manipulated me. Hell, you manipulated all of us. You lied to me. You put people at risk. For what, Jen?"

She looked straight at him, still deadly calm.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Jethro."

"Is that a fact?"

"You just have to trust that I had my reasons. I still do."

"And what was this?" he asked as he gesticulated rapidly between the two of them. "Trying to make yourself feel clean again after sleeping with the enemy?"

The tiredness etched into her features morphed into shock and hurt for a split second as she rubbed a hand across the lower part of her face; the internal struggle written all over her face.

But the moment passed, and she realized she had decisions to make.

"It's complicated," she said with deliberate softness, "and I'm tired. Can we talk about this in a few hours?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"Knock yourself out," he said, indicating the upper level as he turned back to his boat.

Jenny stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down on his hunched form as he varnished diligently; his deliberate movements the only indication of how angry he was.

Her fingers danced on the railing as she lingered for a moment, her heart heavy.

"I'm sorry Jethro," she whispered into the air.

He never even heard her leave the house.

* * *

><p><strong>A short while later, in the autopsy suite at the Navy Yard …<strong>

"Autopsy."

Dr Mallard's facial expression turned serious as he listened to the speaker, and he glanced over his shoulder at Tony and Ziva. Sighing softly.

"Mother ..." he said in a world-weary tone. "No. No I'm not alone. Yes, mother. I know I promised. I can assure you there's no need for that. I'll be there soon."

"Troubles, Ducky?" Ziva asked, as he slipped into his coat and hat.

Ducky paused for a moment; considering how best to put it.

"Mother is threatening to go to the liquor store on her own if I do not return home immediately."

"At least she's still up to it, " Tony pointed out.

"She's threatening to _drive_ there, Tony. _In the buff_."

"In the buff?" queried Ziva.

"Nekkid, Ziva!" said Tony dramatically.

"Well, I'd best be on my way. This will have to wait till tomorrow, I'm afraid," Ducky said as he tipped his hat and headed for the elevator.

* * *

><p><strong>Twenty minutes later<strong>

**Georgetown, Washington D.C.**

Eyes took in the form of Jennifer Shepard as she stepped out of a cab into the Georgetown air.

She looked around once before entering the bar, and he wondered how long she'd known that he'd been following her.

Jen drew her coat closer to herself - unable to decide whether it was paranoia or whether her senses were erring on the extreme side of caution. There was something about the way that the hair stood up on the back of her neck that made her certain that someone was tracking her.

And it wasn't Gibbs.

She'd hailed a taxi and changed her plans as soon as she'd felt the presence. But perhaps it hadn't been enough. She couldn't be sure, and now she sat in a corner waiting for her contact; her eye on every flicker even remotely resembling movement in the room.

"Good evening," the man in questions said as he slipped into the seat opposite her a few moments later.

He patted her hand gently, aware at some level of her distress.

Jen smiled and closed her other hand over his.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," she said.

"Where's Jethro?" he asked, looking round.

"He's not here" she replied simply.

"Of course he's here. Where else would he be?"

"What can you tell me about cause of death?" she said.

As he registered the sadness in her voice, Ducky looked at her for a long moment.

"Jennifer ..." he began, squeezing her hand a little.

"You haven't called me that in a long time" she said gently. Deriving some comfort from the fact that she wasn't alone for the time being.

"Good times" he said, returning her smile with one of his own.

"Good times ..." she echoed, inclining her head just a little.

"Does he know you're here?" he asked.

Her eyes hardened minutely, and he had his answer.

"Is this wise?"

"We're not partners anymore, Ducky. I'm his boss. And Jethro doesn't ..."

"I remember a time not too long ago when you put your side arm in its holster and forgot you were the Director because you thought your old partner needed you. I can't believe that Jethro would -"

"I've had to make decisions that make that kind of thing impossible now. Decisions that Jethro doesn't approve of, or understand."

"Oh my dear ..." he said, patting her hand again, but knowing better than to push.

He was pretty sure he understood anyway.

"So … cause of death?"

The brief moment of personal contact was over, and he was looking at Director Shepard again.

"Definitely not suicide. That part was staged."

"How then?"

"Air embolism" he said gravely.

She looked at him quizzically.

"I thought that was only something you saw in the movies."

"It's very real, I'm afraid. The circulation system in our bodies is air-proof," he began. "The only way that air can enter is if it is pumped in – effectively causing what you might call an airlock. This kind of thing is quite common in the plumbing trade where the normal flow of liquid through tubes is completely or partially blocked by air. Quite in the same manner this air lock blocks the flow of blood through the arteries and veins. Thus ... "

"Disrupting circulation" she finished for him.

"You always were quick on the uptake," he said. Thinking of days gone by as he looked at her fondly.

She blushed slightly and smiled. Nodding at him to continue.

"More commonly injections for murder are given in the veins, as in this case. The bubbles keep travelling till they come to a lung – where the capillaries are too narrow to allow passage."

"So all blood traffic stops?"

Dr Mallard nodded.

"But the body _thinks_ that the blood is not getting purified because of lack of air. So it quickens the respiration."

"The person gasps for breath?" She looked at him with horror written all over her face. "But it doesn't help, does it?"

"Correct," Ducky nodded. "Because the cause lies elsewhere."

"Did you find the puncture mark?"

He nodded again. "It was actually Mr. Palmer who realized what was going on? He caught it in an x-ray before we opened up."

He watched the agent in her apply logic to what he'd just said, and smiled when her eyes lit up a few seconds later.

"The only evidence within the body would be a bubble of air somewhere in the blood vessels."

"In the pulmonary artery, to be precise. The air bubble would have escaped once we opened up. We dissected the blood vessels under water."

"Like finding a leak in a tyre tube ..."

Ducky smiled at the analogy.

"What else can you tell me, Ducky."

"That this was done by someone with great skill."

"A member of the medical profession?"

"Maybe. I can't be sure."

"Anything else?"

"The small intestine showed clear traces of alcohol consumption."

"He was drinking on an empty stomach? I don't know enough about SecNav to know if that's unusual or not."

"That's not my point, Director. The optimal alcohol concentration to facilitate that kind of rapid stomach-emptying has to be 86 proof. Or 43 percent alcohol."

"Are you going somewhere with this, Ducky? I don't follow."

"Very few drinks have that kind of proof."

"Were you able to identify it?"

Ducky looked straight at her, and she felt her stomach knot in response.

"_L'Esprit de Courvoisier,_" he said grimly.

Her eyes cut to his, as her mind scrambled to assimilate the information.

"Go back to NCIS Ducky. I need all your evidence, reports. Everything."

She wrote an address on a piece of paper.

"Have them delivered by courier to this address."

Ducky nodded and rose to his feet.

"Jennifer ..."

"I'll be careful."

"You'll let me hear from you?"

"As soon as I can, Ducky."

She sat at table trying to organise her thoughts and quell the nausea that had reared its ugly head.

Outside, Ducky sat in his car and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

He was muttering under his breath when there was a tap on the window. He cranked it down and looked up at the man standing there.

"Looking for _these_, Dr Mallard?"

Spark plug wires were dangled in front of his nose just seconds before he found himself looking into the barrel of a revolver.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

The _L'Esprit de Courvoisier_ reference takes us back to a conversation in a car in the season four episode _**Blowback.**_


	11. Unreachable

**Aithor's note:**

This is actually three chapters rolled into one - to keep the story moving.

* * *

><p><strong>The Navy Yard<strong>

Thanks for that, Tony," McGee said as he walked down the stairs into the bullpen.

"Think nothing of it, McGee." Tony said with a grin.

"Was it that bad?" Ziva asked. "Last time was before my time, and Tony will not tell me what is going on."

"When the Deputy Director of State calls for Gibbs .. and Gibbs isn't here ... it takes someone with a firm hand to deal with her," Tony said as he clapped McGee on the back.

"Very funny, Tony."

"The lab techs said it was," Tony reasoned.

"It was your call, Tony, as senior field agent."

"And show Gibbs up. Where's your loyalty probie?" Di Nozzo waggled at finger at him.

McGee sat at his desk and linked his terminal to Abby's lab, still shuddering from the encounter with Anna Elliot.

"So ... how'd it go? Really?" Tony probed.

"She was not impressed."

"Did she threaten you with toilet brushes this time?"

"Just how bad did it get last time?" Ziva asked as she looked between one man and the other.

"Oh our boy here just told her to ... _stick it_" Tony said with a chesty laugh. "Didn't you. probie?"

Ziva's eyes widened.

"You told the Deputy Director of ..."

A beeping sound turned everyone's attention to McGee's monitor before she could finish her sentence.

"What is that?" asked Ziva, rising from her seat.

"Abby ran the prints from the call box through AFIS," Tim explained as he brought the incoming information up on the plasma. "Turns out they belong to an ... Alain Bayon."

"Isn't that the last name of Congressman' Sommer's driver?" Ziva asked.

"It is. Brother? Cousin?" speculated McGee.

"Oh this is bad ..." Tony said as he looked at the picture on the screen.

"You know him?" Tim asked.

Tony fought the growing sense of dread.

"That's La Grenouille's driver."

* * *

><p><strong>An abandoned warehouse not far from Georgetown<strong>

"NCIS doesn't negotiate you know," Ducky said.

"I'm not interested in negotiating."

"Then exactly what is it you _are_ interested in?"

"A swap. A trade, if you will."

"A swap for what?"

"Not _what_, Dr Mallard."

Ducky's blood ran cold as the man added, "there's no reason to let a perfectly good faked death go to waste, now is there?"

He tossed a cell phone into the medical examiner's lap.

"Call her."

"I'm afraid I don't know the number."

"Don't play games with me, Dr Mallard."

"Look I'm not playing games. She called me in autopsy. I don't have access to the number. I scribbled it on a piece of paper and left it on - "

"Get it," the man said with deadly calm.

"There's no-one in autopsy now."

"Try anyway."

Ducky did as he was told, and as predicted nobody picked up. He hung up after he let the phone ring through to voicemail; hoping against hope that someone would run across it and wonder what was going on.

"She gave you a piece of paper" the man remembered suddenly. "Where is it?"

Ducky shivered at the thought that they'd been so closely monitored within the confines of the bar, and wondered if Jenny had been aware at some level that her every move was being tracked.

"Give it to me," his captor said, holding him at gunpoint again.

Ducky handed it over reluctantly.

The man looked at it, and sure enough the number in question was written under the address.

He smiled benignly at Ducky, and dialled it.

* * *

><p><strong>Forensics Lab, Navy Yard<strong>

"Pick up, Ducky," Abby fretted into the phone. "I need your reports."

"I thought Ducky went home," McGee said as he walked into the lab.

"He _did_?"

"So Tony said. His mother called."

"He left without sending me the rest of the evidence and his reports, McGee," Abby all but whined.

"They're probably on his desk. I'll go down and get them for you," he said assertively, eager to please.

"You rock, McGee," she said happily, giving him a quick hug.

He walked into darkness, and consequently the first thing to catch his eye in autopsy was the blinking light on the answering machine.

He hesitated for a second and then hit the 'play' button. Not sure why he did it. Just feeling instinctively he should. He was a bit surprised at the silence, and even more surprised when he saw who the caller had been. Again for reasons he wasn't quite sure he understood, he hit the caller id button and backtracked through the calls that had come into the autopsy suite.

Tony and Ziva were sitting at their desks arguing about who was paying for dinner when he came barrelling into the bullpen.

"Someone after you, probie?"

"I don't think it was Mrs. Mallard that called Ducky", he said as he typed commands furiously into his keyboard until a call log came up. "This number look familiar, Tony?" he added as he highlighted it.

_**202-555-0177**_.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Tim said, "what did you do with the cell phone after the assignment was over, Tony?"

"I gave it back to the ... Director," Tony replied, not liking where this was going.

"Ducky called autopsy about half an hour ago and left an empty voicemail. A call from this number came in about two hours ago," McGee added. "Isn't that about the time Ducky left?"

Ziva nodded.

"Ducky isn't answering his cell phone" Tony said as he replaced his own phone. "McGee ... can you triangulate both cell numbers at the same time?"

"If Abby helps I can," Tim said, picking up his own phone and calling the lab.

"Feed it to MTAC" Tony shouted, already halfway up the stairs.

"On it."

"Ziva, find Gibbs!" Tony called.

For a second American and Israeli stared at each other over their respective desks – and then they sprang to action.

"Right. Triangulating now" McGee said to Abby over the phone. "Feed complete at this end. I'll be in MTAC."

He hung up and paused only long enough by Ziva's desk to see her dial Gibbs' number.

"Can we get satellite coverage?" Di Nozzo asked McGee as they looked up at the red cursor moving steadily across the monster screen.

"It'll take fifteen minutes," Mcgee replied. "I don't think we have that long. She's on the move," he said, pointing at the screen.

"Patching?"

"The signal's coming from Georgetown. They don't have that kind of system. It's mostly residential so they don't need it."

"Gibbs?" Tony asked Ziva as she walked into the assessment center.

"Not answering his cell or his house phone," she answered.

"Keep trying."

"She's moving towards him," McGee indicated on the split screen.

"I need an address McGee," Di Nozzo snapped.

"Got it." Tim scribbled it out on a piece of paper and handed it over.

"Ziva, you're with me. Lets see if we can't head her off. Wherever she's going I suspect she needs backup. McGee, if anything changes I want to know asap. You handle things at this end. And keep trying to reach Gibbs."

"On it, Boss," McGee snapped back instinctively.

Tony smiled for a second. And then his smile faded.

"What if Gibbs is with her and that is why he is not answering his phone?" asked Ziva as they raced down the stairs.

"My gut says otherwise," Tony said after a brief pause.

He was in the elevator the next instant - with Ziva hot on his heels.

* * *

><p><strong>Gibbs' house<strong>

"You should have told me anyway, Tobias" Gibbs reiterated as he slid another beer in front of him.

"If you'd been more accessible perhaps I would have," Fornell shrugged. "Maybe she would have too. Ever think about _that_?"

"Bah!" said Gibbs, pulling beer into his mouth.

"NCIS didn't shut down when you left on your margarita safari, Jethro. Things happened. She dealt with them."

"Seems I've heard that somewhere before," replied Gibbs, rankling at the fact that he'd been a topic of discussion between the two of them.

"How long's she been asleep?" Fornell asked, picking up on it.

"Coupla hours. She always did sleep like the dead once she was out and there was nothing pressing."

"It's been a long time since you were partners. Things change."

Gibbs looked at him.

"Some things never change."

"You're pissed off with her," Fornell observed with wry amusement.

"Meh ... " Gibbs brushed it off.

But he was. Very pissed off. Pissed off and angry. Angry about the deception and the way she had handled things. Angry about this ridiculous feeling he harboured that he'd been left out of the loop by both of them. And angry about the fact that he wasn't able to curb his desire for her, even though he was mad as hell with her. That he'd almost taken her against the side of his boat earlier, without a care to the implications it would have brought with it. That she still had an effect on him.

Fornell was about to ask something when his cell phone went off. Gibbs' body tensed as his gut kicked in. He looked around for his own phones, and cursed inwardly as he realized that they were nowhere to be seen. He remembered taking them upstairs on the last trip to get beer, but didn't remember bringing them back down.

Fornell closed his phone and his eyes cut to the ceiling.

"You were wrong, Jethro. Some things do change. I think you're losing your touch," he said as he started up the stairs.

Gibbs stood at the bottom, watching him, as Fornell motioned with his hand from the top.

"You coming or what?"

"Depends on where we're going," came the irritated reply.

"You shoulda kept a better eye on her, Jethro."

"Goddammit!" Gibbs returned as he took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

><p><strong>MTAC, Navy Yard<strong>

McGee paced in MTAC, on the phone with Tony.

"Nothing on Gibbs yet. Still not answering. The Director placed one call from her cell, but it wasn't to him. Abby's working on tracing it, but she's being stonewalled. On the bright side we now have satellite coverage," he said, the relief evident in his voice. "Okay she's arrived. Taxi's leaving. She's ... _oh boy_."

The relief faded.

The air in MTAC grew still as all eyes focused on Jennifer Shepard pulling her side arm from its holster and undoing its safety lock with grim determination – and they watched with bated breath as she morphed from Director to agent in front of their eyes.

They were used to her sitting in MTAC giving orders, not out in the field on her own.

It dawned on McGee that the techs in the room hadn't known until this moment that she was still alive. But nobody said anything. They just stared at the screen with wide eyes.

Almost afraid to breathe.

"She's not waiting, Tony. If she goes inside we have no way of tracking her visually."

He scrubbed a hand across his face.

"She's in" he said suddenly, slight panic in his voice. Watching in disbelief as she cleared the entry to the building and disappeared inside.

Movement at the edge of the screen caught his eye.

"Tony ..." he said, dread creeping into his tone. "Somebody's following her. And it's not Gibbs. Negative. The picture's pixillating when we zoom in too close."

The quiet tension in MTAC was palpable as they watched the unidentified person slip into the building after Jen.


	12. Out Of The Shadows

Jennifer Shepard closed her eyes for a second. Not so much second-guessing herself as steeling her resolve to do this alone.

Someone was still watching her.

Only now it was a _different_ someone.

She had no way of knowing if the two were connected, but if people were baying for her blood on either side of her then the only thing to do was go down fighting. The agent in her had very few illusions about how this would go down if she went in without waiting for Fornell and the FBI. She spared a thought for Jethro, but there was no more time.

Last time she had risked Tony's life to get the job done. This time she needed to risk her own.

Jen focused her thoughts on at least trying to get Ducky out of there before it all went to hell in a hand basket, and undid the safety lock on her weapon with slow deliberation.

She had barely crossed the threshold when she heard a gun being cocked close to her head.

"We've been expecting you, Director."

"We?" she said as she acquiesced to his silent request for her gun.

"After you ..." He signalled for her to precede him.

"Are you alright, Ducky?" she called out as she was ushered into a room.

"A little chafing around the wrists. But other than that, yes. You shouldn't have come, Jennifer."

She smiled but said nothing. Turning her attention instead to the other man in the room.

"Hello Miss Jenny," Yves Bayon said, pulling up a chair for her to sit on.

"Well .. this is quite the party," she said. "Anyone else I know?"

"Patience, Director" came a voice from her left that made her skin crawl.

"Mr. Kort," she acknowledged. "I wish I could say this is a surprise."

"You sound disappointed," he said, his fingers tracing her cheek.

Jen didn't flinch, but her eyes flashed with the fire of distaste.

"Let Dr. Mallard go," she said.

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands," he replied, walking round to stand in front of her.

Looking at her with something that would have passed for lechery in another situation.

"Where's your boss?" she called over her shoulder at Yves.

"He's what you Americans would call a _stooge,_" Trent said. Leaning so close to her that Ducky could no longer hear the rest of their conversation. "It's time for us to go our separate ways, _Director,_" he said, brushing her face with his fingertips again; his eyes glittering with barely-concealed disdain.

Yves Bayon looked at Jen, and for a moment she saw hesitation in his eyes.

"Don't do this, Yves," she said calmly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Jenny" he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

He moved closer to her and raised his gun to her head.

She almost didn't react as Yves Bayon fall forwards towards her.

"Director!"

Jen dropped to the ground under his weight and looked up to see a gun come scuttling along the ground towards her.

She grabbed it and aimed for Alain Bayon who was rapidly advancing and as he went down she saw Trent Kort take a bullet.

She was on her feet in an instant.

"What kept you, Tobias?" she shouted as she made set about untying Ducky.

"Director ..." Ducky said, suppressing a smile and nodding towards the figure that stepped out of the shadows.

Jen looked up and practically did a double take.

"Number fifteen was made a rule for a reason," was all Michele Lee said as Jen smiled and continued to untie Ducky.

"Jennifer ..."

The way Ducky said her name made her reach for her gun - but it was too late.

Yves Bayon had dragged himself up and was holding a gun to the younger agent's head.

"Put your gun down and move away from him," he said threateningly.

Jen complied, squeezing Ducky's arm gently as she did so.

"Let her go, Yves," she said. "She doesn't know anything. We can work something out."

"You killed my brother, you bitch!" He spat as he waved his gun in her general direction.

Jen braced herself.

Nobody was expecting the shot that made him crumple for good.

"You need to work on your shooting skills, Lee," said Tony as he walked over to them. "You okay there, Director? Ducky?"

Ziva moved to him and checked the Bayon brothers for a pulse.

"Dead."

"So's ..."

Jen turned to indicate Trent Kort and realised that he was no longer there.

"If only it were so easy Director," the man in question said with laboured breath, as he materialized from the shadows with his gun trained on Ducky.

Fornell and Gibbs had just cleared the warehouse when they heard the shots. They followed the sound only to be practically mowed down by Di Nozzo - who didn't stop long enough to acknowledge their presence.

As he ran he tried not to jostle the figure in his arms.

The medical examiner shook his head as he hurried after Tony; his expression bleak.

"Call Portsmouth and have them ready in Trauma One, Jethro. And hurry."


	13. Trauma i

**Naval Medical Center**

**Portsmouth, VA**

As the hours stretched past, Gibbs stared unseeing out of the hospital window.

"Boss?" Di Nozzo's tone was as tentative as his approach.

Gibbs turned round and Tony was taken aback by what he saw in his eyes. He'd been expecting the same look he'd had when Kate took the final bullet. Or something resembling Ducky's broken one. Perhaps Fornell's quiet worry. Or even Ziva's restlessness.

But not anger.

At least not _this_ kind of anger.

"Something on your mind, Di Nozzo?" Gibbs all but snarled as the younger agent faltered.

"He wants to know if this was a test, Gibbs," Ziva said from her seat.

Gibbs looked at them both for a long moment and then turned away, but Ziva refused to be intimidated, and he could feel her penetrative glare bite into him.

"Because if it was, Gibbs, you need to decide which one of your two rules number three is more important."

Gibbs was spared having to answer by the appearance of Ducky, still in his scrubs, in the doorway.

"The Director is in recovery" he said gravely as all eyes turned to him. "But the next few hours will be touch and go."

Gibbs walked past him.

Out of the atmosphere which threatened to stifle him.

Desperate for coffee.

The palm of his hand made violent contact with the coffee machine of its own accord.

"What the hell were you both doing there alone Ducky?" he asked as soon as he felt the man behind him.

"I believe I shall let _her_ tell you that," the Scotsman replied.

Gibbs scoffed at his words and took a long swig of liquid.

"I have to get back," Ducky said. But he paused at the doorway and gave his parting shot without a shred of empathy. "Not everything is about _you_, Jethro."

* * *

><p><strong>Several hours later ...<strong>

Ziva stood behind the glass pane separating them from Jen, and seemed to be deep in thought as Ducky came to stand next to her.

"Get some rest, Ziva," he said gently.

"Ducky?"

"Yes?"

"Is there any chance that she ..."

"I have no way of knowing. It's up to her now. I'm almost more worried about Jethro at the moment."

They turned to look at him, standing at the window again.

"He blames himself," Ziva said.

Ducky observed his friend's taut body language.

"Nobody holds a grudge like Jethro," he said sadly. When she looked bemused he patted her on the arm and said, "get some rest, Ziva. There is nothing more to be done here tonight."

Ziva cast one last look at Jen.

"There is something I need to do first" she said. "I will be back as soon as I can."

* * *

><p><strong>An hour after that ...<strong>

Gibbs returned from his aimless drifting in the hospital corridors to find a man leaning over Jen.

He was about to reach for his weapon when he realised that the man in question was no threat to her. Sure that the man was unaware he was being observed, he stood back and watched; not quite sure what was going on.

The man in question stood by the side of her bed and looked at her for a long while before sweeping some hair off her face with a gentleness that made something in Gibbs' gut clench.

His fingers lingered for a moment and then trailed a path down to her own.

"Jenny?" he called softly.

For a moment the nightstand light illuminated his face, and Gibbs was struck by the wealth of emotion in his expression.

He sensed Fornell at his side.

"Who's that?"

Gibbs retreated to his corridor window without a word and the FBI agent looked around to find Ducky standing nearby.

"_That _is the chief neurologist," the medical examiner said as the question was repeated. His thoughtful gaze on the tenderness unfolding behind the glass.

There was sudden movement on the bed as Jen fought against her endotracheal tubing.

She became more and more agitated as she tried to communicate something, and Dr. Gelfand looked at Ducky through the glass; his face indicative that he should enter. Ducky hurried in as the neurologist removed the tubing carefully, and held Jenny's hand until a shot of sedative forced her back into oblivion.

"Could you understand what she was saying?" Gibbs asked from the doorway.

"She was calling for someone called … _Ari_?" the neurosurgeon replied.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

For those who are unsure what Ziva is on about, there are two rules #3 in Gibbs' book.

One says _Don't believe what you're told. Double Check_.

The other says _Never be unreachable_.

I have to say, at this juncture in the narrative, that I've always entertained the idea that Jenny and Todd Gelfand were romantically involved after Gibbs went off to Mexico.

I like to think he sent her those gorgeous Phalaenopsis Orchids Tony was so fascinated with in the show.


	14. Trauma ii

Ducky exchanged a few more words with the doctor before leaving the room.

"She okay, Duck?"

"She's very disoriented, Jethro. Not unusual under the circumstances."

"What was she so agitated about?" asked Fornell. His eye on Gibbs who was watching the doctor's subtle ministrations to his patient.

"She thinks Ari is still alive," Ducky said.

Gibbs looked at Jen on the bed and wondered what was going through her head.

"Is that normal?"

"Well, as I said, _normal_ under the circumstances. She's resting peacefully now. I doubt anything else will happen tonight."

"Is there trauma to the head?" asked Tony, walking up with coffee at that moment.

"No evidence of it. So far," said Ducky quietly as he watched Jethro move back to his window, his features schooled and unreadable.

To someone who didn't know him as well as he did.

He had already take two hesitant steps towards him, even if he was not really sure what he would say, when he realised that someone had beaten him to it.

Ziva stood behind Gibbs - observing him quietly.

"Did Jenny ever tell you what happened in Cairo?" she asked after a while.

Gibbs didn't turn round.

"Only that you saved her life," he eventually replied.

"I've had this since the night before that op," she said, placing an envelope firmly on the windowsill. "I _believe_ it was intended for you." Her eyes cut to Jen's room before she added, "I think she would want you to have it still."

Ziva watched him pick up the letter and place it in his jacket, and moments later their eyes met. Even in the reflection Gibbs could see the hard expression in hers.

"Jenny was a good agent, Gibbs."

"Still is," he said before he could stop himself.

"Then you had better hope this was not a test for you as well."

"Uh .. boss?"

Tony stepped up to them feeling like he was navigating a minefield.

"They've found La Grenouille. He's ... dead."

Gibbs took the open cell phone from him.

"Talk to me, McGee," he said as he took a few steps away from the others.

"The body was found at the marina, boss."

"What else you got?"

"Not sure. Abby's processing Bayon's computer as we speak. Email logs are coming online now. He ..."

"McGee?"

"He's been exchanging emails with a Rose O'Leary. That's..."

Gibbs' eyes widened for a second as realization dawned.

"Where's the_ USS San Jacinto_?" Gibbs barked. "Find her, McGee!" he added as he heard McGee's fingers flying frenetically over the keyboard. "Cruiser. Ticonderoga class."

"Got it. Offensive manoeuvres in the Gulf, Boss. She's one of nine military ships sailing through the Strait of Hormuz."

"Get Deputy Director Welsh in MTAC! I'm on my way."

He snapped the phone shut and his eyes drifted to Jen's listless form, before they locked on Fornell.

"She didn't say Ari," he said slowly as he rubbed a hand across his face. "She said _Ares_."

* * *

><p>Two hours later Gibbs paced in MTAC, trying to dissipate his nervous energy.<p>

"How much longer is this going to take, McGee?"

"Deputy Director Welsh is still in a meeting with the ... uh … boss ... Dr. Mallard for you on line two."

"Put him on speaker," Gibbs said as he continued to wear a hole in the carpet.

"Jethro?"

"Here, Duck. What's her status?"

"Who's her next of kin?" the medical examiner said, cutting to the chase.

"She doesn't have any."

"Do you know if she has a living will?"

Time slowed around Gibbs for a second.

"_Does she have a living will, Jethro_?" Ducky pressed impatiently.

Gibbs heard McGee tap away at the keyboard, no doubt accessing personnel records.

"She does," the young agent said.

"Who's her health care proxy?" Ducky asked.

"You are, boss" McGee whispered, his voice faltering as he acknowledged the implications behind the question.

"Jethro?"

Gibbs closed his eyes, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach rising to his throat. Painfully aware what it was he was being asked.

"No extraordinary means, Ducky" he said when he opened them.

"Her blood pressure's dropping" Ducky said. "They're very concerned."

"She gonna be okay, Duck?"

"Timothy" Ducky said instead, his voice heavy and full of emotion. "I need you to fax the docu - "

He was interrupted by the anguished voice of Abby.

"Ducky!"

The sound of beeping machinery and people scrambling filled MTAC.

"_Code Blue Intensive Care Unit. Code Blue Intensive Care unit._"

"Talk to me, Duck!" Gibbs shouted. "Ducky!"

But the line had gone dead.

"Agent Gibbs," said one of the techs. "Deputy Director Welsh is standing by."

McGee looked at Gibbs for a second.

For a moment he looked like a man in search of his soul.

"Special Agent Gibbs," the Deputy Director snapped. "Would you care to tell me what is so important that I have to come out of a meeting with the Deputy Director of State to hear?"

Gibbs stood there looking at the phone for a second longer. Feeling as though the world was closing in around him.

And then he turned his wrath onto the Deputy Director.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

_**Ares**_ is the ballistic missile targeting system used by the Navy in the show.

At the end of the episode _Blowback_ in season four, we learn that although it was in the possession of La Grenouille a Trojan horse gad been put into it. Anyone attempting to use it would basically be targeting themselves.

In this story it is now aboard the _USS San Jacinto_, which is in the Gulf with eight other ships - on offensive manoeuvres.

The consequences of trying to use _Ares_ would be immense.

Dealing with the crisis would be beyond the scope or power of Gibbs though; so at this point all he can do is offer the intel up to people higher up in the chain of command.


	15. Trauma iii

**Naval Hospital**

"Nothing yet. We're still waiting. Will you be okay?"

Abby spoke into her phone, hearing the whir of engines in the background.

"Transport leaves in ten."

"Be careful, Tim," she said gently.

"I will. I'll check in when I get there," he said as he severed the connection.

Abby slipped into a seat next to the medical examiner.

"Anything on Jethro?" he asked as she slipped her arms around one of his own and rested her head on his shoulder.

"McGee said they left MTAC together three hours ago," she replied with a shake of her head. "He's on his way to the Strait of Hormuz to recover Ares."

Ducky blew out a breath. "Big responsibility for our Timothy."

"He can handle it," Abby said, a hint of pride in her tone.

"I do believe he can," Ducky replied with a smile of his own.

"Doctor Mallard ..."

They looked up into the tired eyes of Todd Gelfand.

"How is she?" Ducky asked, on his feet in an instant.

"Most people aren't so lucky," the doctor replied as he rubbed a hand over his face; telling Ducky all he needed to know about how close a call it had been.

"Abigail, will you give me a moment with Dr Gelfand please?" Ducky requested.

Sensing the other man's need to talk. Sure that he hadn't left Jen's side since he'd called for the crash cart; and that he wouldn't be here now if he wasn't sure that she was resting as peacefully as he could make her.

"Did you ever find out what her living will said?"

"No," Ducky lied.

Dr Gelfand looked him, quietly gauging his response.

"You'd already started," Ducky conceded after a moment. "You made the right call, doctor. Thank you."

Todd Gelfand looked at him and smiled briefly - a tacit understanding between doctors.

It only lasted a split second, however.

"Dr Mallard ..." he began tentatively.

Ducky had no doubt what was coming next.

"How well do you know the Director?" he asked gently, in an attempt to break the ice.

The neurologist looked away for a long moment.

"We went to dinner a few times. And to the opera. We .. we connected, I thought. But there was always .."

Ducky observed him closely. Saw the look of a man desperately in love with a woman who couldn't, or wouldn't, give herself over to him. Part of him ached for this man. Just as part of him ached for Jen.

The neurologist hesitated for a second, and then looked Ducky straight in the eye.

"Is there someo -"

Raised voices caused them both to look over

"You're wrong Ziva."

"Am I, Tony? He was testing us," she said, gesticulating wildly. "Why did he not tell us that she was still alive? We could have prevented this if we had worked as a t-"

"That's _not_ what you're wrong about," he countered with a calm that confused her.

"Stop!" Abby interjected, her hands going up over her ears."Gibbs is on his way. Something must have come up. Maybe he got a flat. He would never ... it's the Director ... he wouldn't .."

Ziva cut her off angrily.

"Gibbs obviously has other priorities right now, Abby."

"You're wrong."

Tony turned her firmly towards the window and gestured out of it at a man siting in a dark blue sedan in the parking lot.

His bleak expression backlit by the harsh lights. His fingers curled tight around a white envelope.

"There is such a thing as caring too much, Ziva" Tony said. "I don't think he can handle the fact that she may be gone. Or that he may have given the order that ended her life."

"What's in the envelope?" asked Abby.

"A letter from Jenny," Ziva said simply; looking away from Gibbs because the pain etched into his features was too much even for her to handle.

A nurse popped her head round the door.

"The Director's awake. She's asking for a ... _Jethro_?"

Ducky's eyes cut back to Todd Gelfand's, and he almost recoiled from the pain of loss he saw in them.

"I'm sorry," he said, squeezing his arm gently before walking away.

* * *

><p>"It's alright, I'm awake," Jen said weakly a few moments later.<p>

"How are you feeling?" he replied, taking her hand in his and applying gentle pressure.

"I've had better days."

"You gave us quite the scare."

She didn't quite manage a smile, and he could see her battling something.

"Is he here, Ducky?" she finally asked.

"He had to leave a few hours ago. To resolve the -"

"Was he here when -"

"No."

He saw no reason to tell her that Gibbs had been at the other of a phone line.

"That's good. How's the anger level?"

For a second Ducky considered sparing her, but she knew too much about the man in question to make the possible. And he refused to insult her intelligence.

"You know Jethro," he said instead.

"How angry?" she asked

"I haven't told him, Jennifer, if that's what you're asking."

She turned her face away slightly.

"He doesn't need to know."

"But that doesn't mean he doesn't suspect."

"There was no other way for it to go down, Ducky."

"Why did you do it?"

He saw raw emotion flutter across her face, but was still taken aback by what came out of her mouth next.

"Jethro would never have forgiven me if you died because I put you at risk."

* * *

><p>Abby tapped on the window of the Sedan.<p>

"Hi Gibbs," she said sweetly. Inclining her head slightly as he lowered the window.

"What is it Abs?" he asked hoarsely; looking at her through dead eyes.

"The Director's asking for you," she said, putting her hand over his on the steering wheel.

She caught the barest trace of something race across his features. And then it was gone.

He placed his head against the headrest, his hands still gripping the wheel.

"I'll be up soon, Abs," he said.

Abby looked at him tenderly and leaned in through the window, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"The others are with her. But I know she wants to see you. You were the first person she asked for."

* * *

><p>Gibbs had the feeling the staff was giving him wide berth as he approached the room.<p>

He stood behind the glass for a moment, watching Jen squeeze Tony's fingers; his heart constricting as he took in how tiny she looked on that hospital bed. Whatever it was the younger agent was saying to her made her smile weakly. Almost as though she sensed his presence she turned her head towards him, and Gibbs' breath caught at the look them. It liquified his insides - until he made the mistake of wondering whether she was trying to manipulate him again.

Something in his face must have hardened, because the gentle smile faded from her face and she turned away from him.

As he made to step towards the door, however, Ducky stepped out into the corridor.

"This isn't a good idea, Jethro," he said.

Effectively placing himself between Gibbs and the entrance.

Gibbs looked at the narrowing eyes in surprise.

"She asked to see me. I just want to talk to her, Ducky."

"You don't want to talk to her, Jethro. You want answers and you don't care what it will take to get them."

Gibbs made to bypass him, but Ducky stood his ground.

"This could have been avoided," he said grimly.

"Coulda told her that before she went and took a bullet," Gibbs said angrily.

"We should never have been there in the first place, Jethro. And if you'd been doing your job we wouldn't have been. Agent Lee knew enough to watch her back. Why didn't you?"

"That's not fair, Duck." Gibbs protested.

Ducky looked up at him in anger he didn't bother to mask.

"I'll tell you what's not fair. What's not fair is that she took a bullet because she was afraid you would never forgive her if she didn't. Go home and sort yourself out, Jethro! Don't come back until you do."


	16. A Gentle Hand

She handed him a cup of steaming coffee and lowered herself onto the step next to him.

"Are you going to sit out here all night?"

"Not sure."

"You've been here for two hours, Jethro."

He shrugged.

"What's on your mind?"

He opened his mouth to speak and couldn't find the words.

"I called Ducky," she continued, trying to make it a little easier for him. "He told me about the Director."

Gibbs nodded, but still didn't speak.

"Do you even _know_ why you're here?"

He pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head once.

But he did know.

He needed the kind of gentleness that came with the package that was Hollis Mann. Somewhere in his troubled mind he'd hoped she would save him from the maelstrom.

Give him a reprieve from himself.

She eyed him carefully; making assumptions of her own.

"When you're ready to talk, come inside," was all she said.

She refilled his coffee cup in silence when he eventually stepped into her kitchen. Sat down and waited for him to speak.

Gibbs looked at her intense face and baulked.

"I should really go," he said, putting the cup down on the counter.

"And yet your body language says otherwise," she said, taking a sip of her own coffee.

He looked at her, clearly torn.

"I wanted to call you when I heard about the explosion," she carried on softly, in an attempt to get him to open up a little. "But I wasn't sure what to say to you. So I came back for a few days instead. On the offchance that you might need a friend."

His eyes cut to hers for a second, and he knew without a doubt that she could see right through him.

"I saw the interview with Senator Sommers" she said. "Did you even _know_ that they were together?"

She picked up on the wry look he gave her immediately.

"Oh," she said. "_That_ complicated."

"I screwed up, Hol."

"You're good at that," she said with a small smile. The reference to their own relationship unmistakeable even if there was no malice in her words.

"I should have been watching her back."

"And what were you doing instead? Trying to put her in her place?"

He found he wasn't ready to share what he'd been doing, because that would mean having to admit that he'd been wrong. About too many things. He'd been the one to forget that loyalty still had it's place in their relationship; that his leaving for Mexico had had ramifications all its own for the agency and for her; that beneath the persona of the Director there lay an incredibly capable agent; that he'd chosen to stop seeing that part of her. It had almost cost her her life. Not to mention Ducky's and Agent Lee's.

His stomach almost revolted at the final admission of who had betrayed whom here.

Hollis observed in silence as he put the coffee cup down on the counter, and moved towards her, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"Jethro," she said as he reached door, "apologies are not a sign of weakness. It takes ..."

"Strength to apologise," he sad with a smile. "I remember."

* * *

><p>Upon reflection, he realised that the thing he found most endearing was the way the team had rallied round her; had taken shifts so that there was always somebody there in the few moments when she was lucid enough for communication.<p>

Even McGee had stopped back at HQ only long enough to drop _Ares_ off before stopping by the hospital to assure her in person that the crisis had been averted. The fact that he'd fallen asleep on the chair by her bed before she was conscious enough to acknowledge his presence made no difference.

And yet Gibbs had found himself frozen; torn between the desire to make things right and the inability to make the necessary move.

So he'd given the excuse that he had an agency to run now that the Director was unable to do so herself, and opted for the graveyard shift – when everyone had gone home for the night and he could watch over her with nobody watching over _him_ or assessing his behaviour.

On the third night it was apparent even to his untrained eye that she was more unsettled than usual. A quick word with the attendant nurse revealed that infection had set in unexpectedly, and that she had been restless all day. As the hours trickled by her restlessness increased, and as he watched, a word form on her lips. His stomach lurched a little when he realised whose name she was calling in her delirium, and he had almost moved forward when someone else moved from the shadows. Someone he hadn't even realised was in her room.

"Jethro?" she repeated, her fever-wracked body arching slightly off the bed, searching for him.

"I'm here, Jen," Todd Gelfand said as he took her hand and stroked it.

She mumbled something incoherent; her hand gripping his with a ferocity that seemed inconceivable under the circumstances.

"I'm here, Jenny. I won't leave you," Gibbs watched him say in his stead.

It stunned him into reflective silence.

Made him wonder how often the neurologist had been in the room while he had been out here on the sidelines. What there could possibly be between them to warrant such personalized attention and the use of her first name in such an intimate fashion.

And gag on the realization that he didn't want anyone else touching or comforting her.


	17. California

**California**

Jen sat on a balcony in Paso Robles. Trying to draw some kind of solace from the view of vineyards which had kept her company for the past six weeks.

She acknowledged the latest progress report in her inbox, and settled back to read it. It was in the same vein as all the other daily reports. Diligent, detailed. Meticulous to a fault. And totally impersonal. Which is what one would expect of progress reports. And yet at the end of each day when she settled back to read them, her heart wished for an indication that she was on his mind. That he would add just one line before attaching the report. Ask her how she was. When she was coming home. All the while knowing that it was Cynthia who compiled these reports for him, and that it was a fruitless enterprise to hope for anything more.

Because Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not a forgiving man.

She'd burdened him with the role of acting director for as long as her leave of absence lasted; even if she knew it was a lot to ask and he'd only resent her more for it.

She questioned her motives again for a moment. Wondering for the millionth time if she'd done this to manipulate him into thinking about her while she was gone. As he would no doubt have to - every time he sat in her chair, used her computer, drank her bourbon. She rather suspected she wanted to punish him; a means of alleviating the pain that threatened to engulf her every time she remembered that he hadn't come to see her once while she was at the hospital. That he'd used Abby, of all people, to communicate to her that he _would_ run the agency until she was well enough to return.

She remembered the maternal rush she'd felt for the young goth as she sat at the edge of the hospital bed watching Jen pack her bags. Fidgety, insecure, and feeling all the weight of being a messenger in a situation that she shouldn't have had to be involved in at all. Words had tumbled out of her mouth in such a haphazard manner that it was all Jen could do to keep up. Until finally she'd wrapped her arms around the young woman and pulled her close. To console them both - and to stop her talking. Because hearing her defend Jethro's actions and speak of his pain was more than she had been able to bear.

Something in the report caught her eye as she reread it. Something that seemed out of place. She picked up the phone and called her office, planning to leave a message for Cynthia.

"Gibbs."

"I trust you're not considering accepting speaking engagements for me again?" she said as she tried for levity. Not sure what else to say when she found him at the other end of her private line.

"Nope. Just trying to catch up with your stuff," he said.

"You sound tired, Jethro," she said. With more tenderness in her voice than she supposed he wanted to hear. Or than she'd intended to let slip through.

"Do you always get this much email?" he asked instead.

"I would have thought you delegated that kind of stuff to Cynthia" she said.

"You've received a few odd ones since your stint as Lazarus."

"Really? You didn't forward those to me," she said, her curiosity piqued.

"Abby and McGee are working on them."

"And?"

"Nothing so far."

Awkward silence fell. Crippling the sense of warmth that his solicitousness had evoked.

"Jethro ..." she began tentatively.

"Yeah, Jen?"

She was interrupted by her cell phone going off.

"Hold on," she said, as she put the receiver on the dresser and answered the other phone. "Shepard. Oh .. hi. You are? I thought you weren't arriving till Friday. Yes, I'm fine. Did you brother pick you up at the airport? On the phone with work. No, really, I'm fine. I ... I'll see you in a little bit then."

She closed the cell with a shake of her head at the impossible timing, and picked up the other phone again. Knowing instinctively that she would find that Jethro had hung up.

As indeed he had.

She stepped back out onto the balcony, her heart pained. Not quite ready for what lay ahead.

_Todd would be at the estate in half an hour. And then there would be decisions to make. On so many levels._


	18. Change

**Two weeks later**

The atmosphere in the bullpen oppressed Gibbs as soon as he set foot in it, but it took him a while to pick up on _what_ was oppressive about it because he was too wrapped up in the events of the past few days.

It had been a bad week.

A marine charged with the murder of two naturalized Iraqis living in Anacostia area had escaped custody, and it had taken the co-operation of three sister agencies to bring the man down. Getting that co-operation had given him a keen appreciation for the complexity of Jen's job, and made him wonder just how often she had to put herself on the line to give her agents the infrastructure they needed to get the job done. The fact that he'd had to put a bullet through the man when he'd taken a little girl hostage hadn't helped either.

But that was something he'd have to deal with on his own time. In the meantime he was being pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of Timothy McGee.

"Boss .."

Perhaps it was the flatness in the agent's voice that made him realise that whatever was going on around him had absolutely nothing to do with the case. He cast a quick glance around the bullpen and saw several pairs of eyes move off him quickly.

"What is it, McGee?" he asked, noting immediately that the flatness extended to the younger man's eyes.

"Ducky was looking for you" Tim replied simply, looking back at his screen without another word.

Gibbs looked at Tony, who hadn't so much as looked up from his desk. And then over at Ziva - who was'nt at her desk at all.

"Where's Ziva?" he asked.

"With Abby," Tim answered, head bowed.

"I'll be in autopsy."

Tony sighed as soon as he was gone; it seemed like a lifetime ago that they had heard those same words from Gibbs, not just a few weeks.

So much had changed since then - and it seemed like so much was still set to.

"Lookin' for me, Duck?" Gibbs asked as he swept into the suite.

The medical examiner looked up from the body of the marine.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, Mr Palmer?" he asked.

"What's up?"

"Were you too busy to attend the meeting?" he asked when his assistant had gone.

"Meeting?"

Ducky fixed him with a look that asked him to stop insulting him.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked after a moment of silence.

"She hinted at changes."

"Changes?" Gibbs asked, not sure he liked the sound of that.

"_Big_ changes, Jethro. For the agency."

Gibbs hadn't quite seen that coming.

"For the agency?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Ducky asked. Irritated beyond belief. "She's been offered another job."

"Where?"

"Department of Defence."

"_Department of Defence?_" Gibbs scoffed. But the look on Ducky's face only served to accentuate the feeling deep inside that he wasn't sure anymore what she would and would not do.

"A few weeks ago I might have agreed with you," the older man continued. "But things have changed. And it's a formidable step up the ladder. Especially for one so young."

He poured himself a cup of tea, and stood watching Gibbs. Sipping it slowly as he waited.

"Think she'll take it?"

"I don't know," Ducky replied seriously. "But I will tell you this. If she goes _you're_ going to have to be the one to tell Abby that she's lost her confidante. Did you know that she talked to Jennifer about her boyfriends?"

"What?" Gibbs looked at him in confusion – not entirely sure what this had to do with anything.

"It's the little things behind the scenes that keep an agency together," Ducky carried on, oblivious. "Something you have never appreciated, Jethro. She was very good at that."

"_Is_ good at that, Ducky. To the best of my knowledge she's still Director."

The doors swished open and Abby walked in.

"I have those samp-"

She stopped short when she saw Gibbs - and then walked straight into his arms.

"Is it true, Gibbs?" she asked after a moment.

"Is _what_ true?"

"About the Director."

"I don't know, Abs. But I intend to find out," he said. Dropping a kiss to the top of her head before moving away.

"She in?" Gibbs asked as he stopped at Cynthia's desk.

Cynthia shook her head, and he couldn't help but notice her red rimmed eyes – even if she refused to look at him either.

"She went home about twenty minutes ago."

Gibbs took a deep breath and nodded, and then he turned on his heel and headed back to his desk.

His team watched as he pulled a familiar white envelope from his desk and strode towards the elevator without a word.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

Just thought I'd mention that there are two chapters left to this story.


	19. Honesty

Noemi didn't say a word as she let him in.

Just smiled gently and indicated that the person he wanted to see was in the study.

Gibbs slipped in without knocking and found her looking out of the double doors at the back of the room.

He was pretty sure she knew that he was in room and was waiting for him to speak first.

If nothing else, he knew that if he didn't give her complete honesty she would slip through his fingers.

And he wasn't ready to go through that again.

"What are you doing, Jen?" he asked gently, coming to stand behind her.

"Having a drink. Want one?" She indicated the drinks cabinet when he inclined his head. "Help yourself."

His second indication that he was going to have to field this one alone.

Or maybe it was the third.

So he poured himself a generous measure under her watchful eye and thought about how to reopen the conversation.

"Are you ever going to say anything?" she asked when it took too long.

"Just waiting for you to ask why I'm here," he said – since he hadn't come up with anything translatable into words.

"I can guess," she said as she turned off the stereo which had been playing in the background.

Not wanting to share the song with him.

Not wanting to share anything.

She flinched a little when he resumed his position at her shoulder, but he merely took the glass of bourbon from her hand and placed it on the desk. His fingers just barely brushing hers sparked something that she came perilously close to acting upon but didn't.

Because turning in his arms and losing herself in him was not an option.

"It takes more courage to stay than go, Jen."

"And since you're speaking from experience then I guess that makes you the expert," she retorted.

"Jen ..."

"Then I guess that makes me a coward as well now," she replied. "But I still need to do what's best for me."

"You keep saying that. But do you know what you want? Have you ever really known?"

He stepped back when she turned to face him.

"Why are you here Jethro? Really?" she asked.

"To return this," he said, pulling the white envelope from his inner pocket.

She stared at it blankly.

"What is it? Where did you _get_ this?" Her eyes widened as she pulled a smaller envelope from within.

"Ziva."

"She didn't know who it was for. Your name is on the second envelope. She wasn't supposed to open it unless ..."

Her eyes cut to his as he said, "it was touch and go, Jen. She either thought it was a calculated risk or you gave a away a lot more than you realise in Cairo."

"And yet you didn't open it," she said as she tossed noth envelopes onto her desk. "Abby told me you that you respected the terms of my living will, even if ..."

"It wasn't easy .."

The rawness in his voice caught her off guard.

"Abby said that too," she said, her own voice losing its edge.

"Abby talks too much," he said.

But there was no anger in his voice.

Only warmth.

They stared at each other for a long moment before he said, "it's time to stop running, Jenny."

"You never came to see me at the hospital," she said simply as she took another sip of bourbon. "Why?"

"I was there. Night shift," he added when she looked at him in confusion. "You're not the only coward."

He looked away from her, not feeling particularly confident about meeting her eyes.

"Jethro?"

She touched his face tentatively, and he closed his eyes at the sensation. Turned his mouth into her palm and kissed it once before wrapping fingers around it and pushing her hand away from him.

"You had company, Jen," he mumbled into his drink.

"I called for you," she confessed - even if it cost her.

"And you accepted someone else in my place" he responded, no less vulnerable.

"I don't ever want to see that look in your eyes again."

"Is that why you're running?"

"I'm not running, I'm moving up."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"I can't stay Jethro. We can't work together anymore after what happened. You know that. There are more issues between us now than there were two years ago, and there were plenty then."

"You should have trusted me, Jen."

For a moment she felt anger ripple through her.

"Like you trusted _me_?"

"I trusted you."

"With everything but your heart!" she snapped.

She knew she was trying to pick a fight - because it was an unfair thing to throw in his face. The needier she sounded to her own ears the angrier and more reckless with her words she tended to become.

So she bit down on her lip to stop herself from talking.

"Is that why you left eight years ago?" she heard him ask.

She took a deep breath and came clean.

"I left because I needed to get where I am today" she said. "To get answers. And justice for my father." Her fingers tightened on the door knob. "And I failed in that too."

"I would have helped you."

She knew there was nothing accidental about his touch the moment she felt his fingers round her shoulders.

"Don't touch me, Jethro." Her voice cracked a little on the words.

"It's all I know, Jenny. You know I'm not very good with words."

"Jethro ..."

"Don't ask me, Jen," he said as his hands moved to her hair. Unpinning it till it cascaded into his hands and he could bury his face into her scalp.

She was pretty sure he was remembering the same things she was as they stood there. Countless moments when he'd run his fingers through her hair; buried his face in it as he was doing now; twirled it absently in his fingers after they'd made love; washed it in the shower; even dried it for her on occasion.

"Let me go."

"Not gonna happen" he murmured into her hair, one hand moving to wrap around her hip.

"I can't do this, Jethro," she said.

"Someone once told me that when you're so good at what you do you don't just quit."

"I'm not quitting. I'm just going to a place where I'm needed."

"You're needed _here_" he said, pressing her against the glass.

"Don't ..." she pleaded.

"Jen ..." he murmured as he placed an open-mouthed kiss against the side of her face, his hand clutching at her thigh. "The thought of being in love with you again -."

"You were never really in love with me, Jethro. Now I know what I only _suspected_ back in ninety-nine. I can't compete with a ghost."

"Don't go there, Jen," he said gently as he turned her around. "She's gone. You're still here."

She pressed a finger to his lips.

"Stop," she said.

"Don't go," he said as he moved her finger away and leaned in to kiss her.

Watching her eyes close as she melted into his embrace.

He pulled her into him as if thought that he might absorb her right into his skin. Perfectly aware that this moment of bliss might be torn away from him any time she saw fit. He tried to resist the hypnotic pull of her body too. To keep the kiss emotional yet sexless. But as it deepened, his body had its own ideas. And it didn't take long for her to become aware that it had betrayed him.

He released her the moment he felt her falter, his fingers coming to rest on her face, and they stood there for a while - catching their breath.

Foreheads touching.

"You need to go now, Jethro," she said with difficulty.

"Jen ..."

"I'll let you know what I decide," she said slowly.

He stepped away from her reluctantly and paused in the doorway.

"Don't go, Jenny. _Please?_"


	20. Fin

**Three weeks later**

**Gibbs' house**

Gibbs descended into the stillness of his dark basement, trying to will away the tell-tale tension building in the base of his skull.

He considered popping a few pills, but part of him rebelled; almost relishing the advent of pain.

A reminder that not all gambles pay off in this life.

And that putting oneself on the line emotionally is not without its risks.

He hadn't waited till the end of the going away reception, despite her communicating that she wanted to have a word with him. If he was brutally honest with himself, which he was, he would admit that he hadn't wanted to be let down gently. Hadn't wanted to hear platitudes. Hadn't wanted to be alone in a room with her. Because the way she'd looked tonight, perfectly collected, the urge to force her into submission would have been beyond his control. So he'd slipped away as she was giving her last speech as Director. Not wanting to hear that either.

He snapped on the light over the workbench and stopped short at the sight of the all too familiar white envelope. Ran his fingers over it before picking it up. Turned it over and looked inside; to confirm that the letter from Cairo was nestled inside.

He almost laughed at the irony of his inability to run and hide from the truth. The ending he'd left the party to avoid was waiting for him in his sanctuary anyway. And there was nothing left to do but face it. So he slid down against the boat and stared at the envelope for a long while before opening it.

The intensity of the words paralysed him. It had been written four years after she'd left him in Paris, and yet all of the emotion was intact. With every line it became more and more apparent that she hadn't moved on, despite his best efforts to convince himself that she had; that she was burdened with regret.

That she'd never stopped loving him.

It was the last part that made him crumple the letter in rage and toss it away from him. Only to pick it up and smooth it out again a few minutes later.

Reading it over and letting it hurt him.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he stood from the ground. But he knew he needed a drink, in spite of the ache in his head which had escalated to a steady throb by this point.

Only his bourbon wasn't there.

He looked on the other side of the boat, hoping to find it. And found something else instead.

"Looking for this?" she asked, getting to her feet and handing over the bottle.

There was really no need for words as she stepped into his arms. And Gibbs wouldn't have trusted himself to speak anyway, because the moment he saw the look in her eyes he understood what she'd wanted to tell him.

What the letter meant.

She held him close as she hit one of the speed dials on her phone.

"Found him," she said to the person who picked up at the other end.

Gibbs looked at her inquiringly.

"Di Nozzo followed you to the bar. Got a bit panicky when he saw you disappear out back with Stacey." She repressed a chuckle as she wiped the lipstick off the edge of his mouth. "Was she a redhead, Jethro?" she asked in what he was pretty sure was amusement.

"I walked away," he said self-righteously as he tightened his hold on her, his mouth alighting restlessly on various parts of her face.

"I know. McGee and Ziva tailed you till you managed to lose them. Ziva swears if she'd been driving it wouldn't have happened."

She smiled against his skin and took the letter from his hand.

"The past is dead, Jethro."

"I know."

"Do you doubt me?" she asked, as she cupped his face.

"I don't doubt that this is going to be complicated."

"That isn't what I asked."

"Do you doubt _me_?"

"You were the one who taught me to think outside the box, Jethro. It's time to apply that to _us_ now."

"_Us_ is good." He started to close the distance between them, and then pulled back just before his lips touched hers. "Any other secrets I should know about before we get involved again?"

"Considering I'll be working for the Department of Defence, plenty. And they're _all_ need to know" she said with a dramatic chortle.

"Forget I asked," he said, leaning in for a kiss that caught fire for a moment and then faltered.

She saw him wince.

"Does your head hurt?" she asked, having seen that pained look in his eyes often enough in the past.

He nodded fractionally.

Jen stood on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear.

"Do you remember the best cure for that?"

Gibbs smiled as broadly as he was able to.

"That an offer, Jen?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

And that, as they say, is that.

This story was originally written with a K+ rating, and I've decieded to stick to it.

Next up is the last of the _survivors_ (and it's only three or four chapters long).

_Old Wounds_, for those who remember it.


End file.
